


The Elephant in the Room

by Silverblazehorse



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Case Fic, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 10:05:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3764044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverblazehorse/pseuds/Silverblazehorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From The Sign of Three: <br/>Sherlock (OS): ‘… and of course there was the elephant in the room.’<br/>Elephant (OS): ‘TOOOT!’</p>
<p>What would the case of the elephant in the room have looked like? A client comes to Sherlock and John with an unusual problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Elephant in the Room

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader Jolie_Black.

It was one of those lazy Saturday mornings; the type of mornings that don’t invite people to move. Sherlock and John had managed to have breakfast after which John had settled down with a newspaper and a cup of coffee and Sherlock was sprawled onto the sofa and closed his eyes, possibly regretting getting up in the first place.

It was between an article about the lack of control in the financial sector and an article about a woman complaining about the rising prices of hydrogen peroxide that John heard a loud vibrating sound from the kitchen cupboard, glasses vibrating in sync.  He looked up at Sherlock who didn’t look particularly conscious. 

From the peroxide (for the hair, apparently), he moved on to something about a celebrity, mostly famous for being a celebrity, whose name he couldn’t really place, but it seemed that that person was divorced now.

BZZZZZZ

He didn’t imagine it. As always in this household, there could only be one culprit.

‘Sherlock, what’s that buzzing sound coming from the cupboard?’

Sherlock looked up. ‘Oh that. It’s either the doorbell or the fruit flies I keep in the tank. They have amazing genetic properties and a high turnover rate.’ He smiled. ‘That’s handy when you do genetic studies.’

John rolled his eyes. He put the paper away, got into the kitchen and opened the cupboard. Behind the tea mugs, the doorbell was ringing impatiently.  He took it out and held it in front of Sherlock with an accusing look on his face.

Sherlock took it and looked back with a broad fake grin. ‘Oh, turns out it’s the doorbell.’

Neither Sherlock nor John made any movement in the direction of the door. Instead, they looked out of the window. A well-dressed lady in her sixties was walking up and down on the pavement with small agitated steps. Sherlock saw that the right part of her trajectory was within visual range of the people having coffee at Speedy’s so that every few seconds, this woman would bounce in and out of their view, like the cuckoo of a cuckoo clock.

John looked at Sherlock. ‘What do you think?’

‘Expensive coat, really expensive bag, when she goes up we’ll have a look at her shoes-‘

‘Expensive you think?’

‘Obviously.  As is her dress sense. Nouveau riche or trying to pass for that. Tend to be rather boring company.’

‘Well, it’s not company, it’s a client. A rich client. The type of client you need.’

Sherlock shrugged dismissively. ‘I had a great case with the king of Germany.’

 ‘No, you didn’t.’

‘How do you know? It was top secret.’

‘Because Germany doesn’t have a king, Sherlock. If you’re trying to deceive me, try googling your lies beforehand.’

Sherlock stretched lazily and slumped into his chair. He looked at John. ‘It could’ve had a king. Maybe it does have a king now, and you simply hadn’t paid attention. Maybe it’s a secret king.’

John turned away from the window. ‘You’re not even trying,’ he said while he walked to the door. There really isn’t a king of Germany and you really need a case.’

Before John got to the door, they heard a click, a thud, and the sound of female voices.

‘Seems that Mrs. Hudson has sorted that one out for you.’ John made no attempt to hide the sound of triumph in his voice.

Sherlock gave John a look.

‘Sherlock?’ said Mrs. Hudson as she came up the stairs. ‘A client for you.’

She walked inside, with the well-dressed lady behind her. ‘Why don’t you ever open the door?’

‘Lost my doorbell.’

‘It’s in your hand.’ She sighed and shook her head but smiled at the same time.

Sherlock looked at the forgotten doorbell in his hand. ‘Oh, there. Thank you so much,’ he said sarcastically.

John shrugged. ‘That case is solved then.’

‘Oh, Sherlock, that’s no attitude for a professional,’ she said in mock exasperation. Sherlock just grinned at her, not even pretending to care. She looked back, sighed at so much stubbornness and went downstairs again, still smiling.

They looked at the client, and quite simultaneously at her shoes; black with heels of at least a decimetre.

‘Versace, bit disappointing,’ muttered Sherlock under his breath. John chuckled.

 ‘I beg your pardon?’ said the client. Sherlock dismissed it with a vague gesture and shook her hand.

 ‘I’m Sherlock Holmes, this is my friend John Watson. How can we help you?’

‘My name is Annabel Humphreys. I’ve got an unusual problem.’  She hesitated and looked from Sherlock to John.

John pulled out a chair.

‘Please sit down, Mrs. Humphreys’ he told her.

She sat down and crossed her legs. ‘Please call me Annabel,’ she said curtly.

Sherlock and John sat in their own chairs. A silence fell. Sherlock and John looked at Annabel.

‘What is this unusual problem? I would be thrilled to know,’ said Sherlock.

She looked from Sherlock to John and back to Sherlock again. ‘Well, it was a break-in. Some kind of break-in at least.’

Sherlock studied her face. ‘Some kind of break-in. Fascinating.’ He didn’t look particularly fascinated.

‘So something was stolen?’ asked John.

‘Not quite.’ She looked helpless now.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. ‘So something was not quite stolen? Does that mean it was a bit stolen? Or borrowed? Or something was broken and only one half was stolen. What happened?’

‘No, no, no. Nothing was stolen.’

‘Then, what happened?’

‘Something was put into my living room.’

‘And what was it?’

She sighed. ‘An elephant.’

John caught Sherlock’s eye and they both started laughing at the same time.

‘An elephant?’ asked John.

‘An elephant.’ The woman didn’t find it particularly funny.

Sherlock got up, grabbed his violin and walked to the window in one fluent, well-practiced motion.  ‘So there’s an elephant in your room, Annabel?’ His attempt at a dignified tone utterly failed because of the corners of his mouth were curling. He looked out of the window and plucked the strings of the violin.  Finally, he looked at her again.

‘So how did it get in?’

‘I don’t know. The door is too small.’

Sherlock did some more plucking and gave her a mock-contemplative look. ‘Are you sure there isn’t an elephant-shaped hole somewhere in your house?’

‘Well, I did check for that of course.’

‘Maybe you missed it. People can be terribly inobservant at times.’

 ‘Sherlock, she didn’t miss an elephant-shaped hole in her house.’

Annabel shook her head.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. Suddenly, his whole posture was alert, a vague smile playing around his lips.  ‘Oh, really? Maybe John and I should get our coats then.’

 

They took a cab and Annabel brought them to a normal residential area in one of the suburbs of London.  They stopped in front of a small apartment block. When they got out, Sherlock scanned the area with a quick, almost invisible movement of his eyes. He gave John a look. John smirked. Neither the house nor the neighbourhood was expensive and their question was answered. Annabel was just pretending to be rich.

 ‘I live on the second floor,’ Annabel said as they got out. 

She walked towards the door with John, but then they stopped because Sherlock didn’t follow.

Instead, he looked around the house. His attention was drawn particularly to the ground. There was a small front lawn, tended by the resident of the ground floor.  The grass patch was full of tracks of heavy machinery. Sherlock crouched down and studied the tracks.

 ‘That’s Mrs. Burrows’ garden,’ Annabel said.

Sherlock didn’t look up as he studied the crisscross of tracks. ‘Was she getting any building done?’

‘Yes, she changed her sliding doors. She thought there weren’t safe enough. It’s never safe enough for her, she’s obsessed with burglaries. It’s a bit annoying to be honest.’ She shrugged.

The door to the hallway opened and an elderly couple came out. They gave John, Sherlock and Annabel a questioning look. John smiled and greeted them. They politely returned the greeting. Sherlock said nothing but looked sideways at Annabel who ignored the couple completely. They walked to their car and drove off.

Sherlock got up. ‘All right, let’s have a look at your burglar then.’

 

Sherlock and John followed Annabel up the small staircase. As they walked up, they looked at each other. No elephant could pass through here.

She turned her key to unlock the door but it stopped. The door was already unlocked. For a second she looked at it in surprise, then she shrugged, opened the door, and stepped back to let Sherlock and John go through. Sherlock took the lead and stepped into the hallway, followed by John, Annabel behind them. Sherlock walked to the other end, smelled the air and looked at John. He had smelled it too, unmistakably elephant. Sherlock opened the door and they looked inside.

A trumpeting sound greeted them. The elephant stood in the middle of the living room, with a large pile of hay in front of it. The sound of running water came from the kitchen. For one second, they could only stare.

Then John suppressed a grin. ‘Yes, that’s… definitely an elephant.’

‘So far, so obvious.’ Sherlock looked at Annabel, who stood behind them. ‘Did you buy that hay?’

She shook her head, looking frightened. In the kitchen, the sound of running water stopped.

‘Hello?’ said Sherlock.

‘Hello?’ An old lady’s voice. There was the sound of footsteps, and a lady in her eighties with long grey hair came around the corner carrying a large bucket of water. She walked towards the elephant and put the bucket down with a large thud. It was heavy.

 ‘Water?’ Sherlock asked.

 ‘Yes, dear,’ she answered. ‘I thought, poor Annabel’s had such a fright. She ran off to I don’t know where and no one is taking care of this poor elephant.’

John looked at Sherlock who shrugged. Someone had to do it.

‘Are you Mrs. Burrows?’ Sherlock asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Where did you get all that hay?’ John asked.

She gave him a look of pity. ‘Don’t you city boys know anything anymore? Every farmer knows where to get hay. I just had to ask around a bit.

John saw the corners of Sherlock’s mouth starting to curl for one second before Sherlock found his serious face again. The elephant put its trunk into the bucket and sucked up the water. Then it tilted its head upwards and released the water into its mouth.

 ‘He probably needs lots of water,’ said John.

‘She, John, pay attention, it’s not so hard to observe.’

John crouched down. Sherlock was right, there was no sign of a penis but there was something that looked like an udder. Sherlock slowly walked into the living room, carefully watching the elephant for signs of discomfort. In this particular setting, it was obvious to all that the elephant was the highest in the pecking order.

‘It’s an Indian elephant, judging by the ears. An adult, but since I’m not an expert on elephants I don’t know much about its age.’

He walked around the elephant, which had gone back to eating hay again. When Sherlock saw that the elephant had relaxed, his interest in it disappeared and instead he focused on the windows.

 ‘I don’t think it’d come flying through the window,’ said Annabel from behind John.

‘Shhhh!’ Sherlock took out his magnifying glass and started to inspect the window panes.

‘What’s he doing?’ whispered Annabel to John.

‘Relax,’ he said. ‘He’s got his own methods. He knows what he’s doing.’

The elephant raised her tail and Sherlock, focused as he was on the window panes, leapt away just in time to avoid being covered in elephant dung.

‘Well, most of the times,’ concluded John.

Annabel pinched her nose. Mrs. Burrows grinned. ‘The poo’s not the worst, love.’

‘Oh, horrible! What have I ever done to deserve this?’ Annabel said in a high pitched voice.

Mrs. Burrows shrugged. ‘I told you it’s easy to break in here.’

Annabel looked daggers at her neighbour.

Sherlock took out his phone and started taking pictures of the elephant.

 John cleared his throat. ‘Eh, Sherlock, what have you found so far?’

Sherlock stopped taking pictures and looked at Annabel. ‘Do you have a back door? Like sliding doors or something else that is big?’

‘There’s the balcony in my bedroom. It’s on the other side of the hallway, if you like, you can have a look.’

Sherlock made a dismissive gesture. ‘Never mind the back door then.’

‘Why?’

Sherlock rolled his eyes. ‘Because that would mean that the elephant had to pass through two normal sized doors,’ he snapped.

John took a deep breath. ‘Yeah, makes sense.’

Sherlock looked around, to the windows, to the elephant, the two ladies, the doorway and John. The smile on his face was no longer hidden. ‘Well, Annabel, I think it would be best for all involved if you packed a few clothes and joined your husband at the hotel as quickly as you can.’ He looked from the elephant to the window. ‘I am convinced that the problem will take care of itself. Goodbye.’

And with a swirl of his coat, he walked out of the door, down the stairs. John followed him hastily, leaving a perplexed Annabel behind.

 

 

One day later, John was writing up the case.

‘Are you blogging the elephant thing?’ asked Sherlock.

‘Yes, why?’

‘Wait a few more days, the story isn’t over.’

‘You just don’t want to admit that you couldn’t solve it.’

Sherlock grinned mysteriously. ‘Maybe, maybe not.’

‘You’ve solved it, haven’t you?’

Not long after that, Sherlock got a phone call and got up.  ‘C’mon, John, that was Mrs. Burrows. Apparently, the elephant has vanished into thin air. Just as I was expecting.’

John shook his head as he followed Sherlock. ‘Insufferable, smug, arrogant,’ he muttered under his breath. Sherlock pretended not to hear it but looked even smugger.

 

‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’ Mr. Humphreys who had opened the door looked angry. ‘An elephant in our room? I’ve never heard something so ridiculous in my entire life! Who are you people?’

John looked at him. He was perplexed. ‘Well, your wife came to see us because of it yesterday. Is she not at home? She could confirm the story.’

‘My wife didn’t call no one! Now, bugger off.’

Sherlock, looked at him innocently.

‘You mean there never was an elephant in the room?’

‘You people, always complaining about locks and burglaries. Look! ‘ He walked over to the lock on their front door. John estimated that it would take Sherlock about ten seconds to pick it. ‘You see? The lock is fine. No one gets in here. Now, get out of here.’

‘So you think the elephant might have picked the lock. Interesting theory.’ Sherlock pretended to have a serious interest in the lock. ‘I happen to know a few things about locks.’ He took out a screwdriver. ‘Shall I test it for you?’

‘Why would I want it tested? I know it’s fine.’

‘Who is complaining about locks and burglaries?’

‘That lady from downstairs. She wants to replace the entire front door and it’s us who have to come up with I don’t know how much of the costs. ’

He looked at them angrily. ‘This is what’s behind it, isn’t it? Just another way to get some money out of our pockets.’

‘Well, it was your own wife who called us.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘How could she have called you, she’s at the bridge club. You think she’d make an appointment when she isn’t even at home?’

John looked at Sherlock. ‘Who called us the second time?’

‘Mrs. Burrows.’ Sherlock straightened. ‘I’m sorry to have bothered you about locks. We will have a chat with the lady downstairs.’

 

Mrs. Burrows smiled when she opened the door. ‘Hello lads, what an adventure, don’t you think?’

She let them in and asked them to sit down. Her living room was the same size of Annabel’s, but she had dark heavy furniture and little decorative trinkets everywhere, so the room looked smaller. John saw that Sherlock’s eye was immediately drawn towards a few light spots on the wallpaper. Photos that had been there for a long time had been removed for some reason.

Mrs. Burrows came back from the kitchen with tea, which they accepted. She sat down. ‘So, what did they say about the elephant?’

‘That it didn’t exist,’ said John, looking puzzled. ‘It was her husband. She wasn’t there, apparently.’ He shrugged.

‘Oh, the poor man, but he did know. How can one fail to notice an elephant in the room?’

 ‘You’d be surprised at what people fail to notice,’ said Sherlock evenly.

‘Well, they had called a zoo or something, to remove the elephant. But when they came, the elephant had already disappeared.’ She chuckled. ‘You should have seen the looks on their faces.’

‘But why did Mr. Humphreys say that there never was an elephant?’ John asked.

Sherlock threw his head back and laughed. ‘Did you see him? When we talked to him, did you see how the right corner of his mouth went up? That’s an expression of superiority. You remember the way Annabel was dressed? Those types of people want to believe that they are better than others. Someone planting and removing large mammals in their living room without their consent doesn’t really fit into that worldview.’

Mrs. Burrows laughed with him. ‘You got that right. Well, I guess they’ll survive the embarrassment.’

 

When they got into the cab, Sherlock didn’t ask the driver to take them home. Instead, he gave him an address that John didn’t know. After a while, they stopped at a place that seemed to be somewhere on the edge of the city. There were some fields in the distance. Sherlock paid and John gave him a surprised look.

They got out of the car. They were in front of a gate of a large complex that looked like a farm. There was no nameplate. Sherlock rang the bell.

‘Yes?’ said an unfriendly female voice through the speaker.

 ‘Hello, my name is Holmes. I would like to speak to Mr. Eddings if that’s possible?’

 ‘Does he know you’re here?’

‘It’s important. It’s about Beatrice.’

They heard a rustle and some static over the speaker. The woman was shouting something to someone that they couldn’t make out. Finally, with a buzzing noise, the gate unlocked.

Sherlock and John went inside.  The area was quite large, with several buildings. On their right, there was a building that looked like a long cow stable but higher. On their left was a smaller building that looked like a farmhouse, probably the office. Behind the office was a smaller stable with half open stable doors. White horses looked out of the first five doors; the second two were occupied by zebras. Between the stables, the yard led to an exercise arena, fenced off with white fences, and a couple of fields. The place smelled of animals, but more zoo like than farm like.

The door of the long stable opened and a tall, muscular man with a wheelbarrow appeared. He was in his fifties with long blond, but now greying hair and a long moustache. The wheelbarrow was filled to the rim with a mixture of sawdust and poo.

‘Hey, what do you want with Beatrice?’ he sneered.

‘Hello, Mr. Eddings, pleased to meet you, my name is Sherlock Holmes,’ said Sherlock in an unnaturally friendly voice.

 ‘Oh, I know you. You’re that detective guy. You after our animals now? Why don’t you go and catch some real criminals and leave hard working circus people alone? We got plenty of trouble without you people meddling.’

 ‘I’m not after any of your animals, Mr. Eddings,’ Sherlock said in a serious tone. ‘I’m merely solving a small mystery that involves one of your animals appearing on a most unusual place.’

Mr. Eddings shrugged. ‘Beatrice didn’t go nowhere. Now, get out of here.’

Sherlock stood firm and smiled. ‘I don’t think so, Mr. Eddings.’ He bent towards the large man and whispered loudly: ‘I know ears’.

Mr. Eddings looked at him and sighed. Then he smiled, took off his glove and offered Sherlock his hand. ‘Boris, please, no one misters me.’

Sherlock shook his hand and smiled back.

‘You know ears, you said?’ Boris’ eyes now twinkled. ‘Wanna have a go?’

‘Sure.’

John looked from one to the other and made no attempt to hide his impatience. ‘Sherlock? What is going on?’

Sherlock grinned. ‘I know ears.’

Boris now grinned too. ‘Let’s have a look, shall we.’ He parked the wheelbarrow next to the door and walked back inside, holding the door open for them.

They followed. Inside, the stable was divided through its length, with a walkway in the middle and large sturdy stalls on either side. On their left, there were two giraffes, one of which was lying down on the big layer of straw to ruminate. On the right, there were four camels, each nibbling at their own pile of hay.

‘We used to have lions, you see,’ said Boris. ‘But with current regulations, it became impossible to keep them.’ He looked at them with an expression of anger and sadness. ‘You watch out for those animal rights people. First they come after our lions and elephants, but after that they’ll come after your dogs and cats. Just as unnatural.’

Sherlock didn’t respond. John knew that the only animal Sherlock owned was a cat, in five pieces in the freezer, waiting to be dissected for traces of the poison that had killed its owner.

They walked to the second half of the stable. The entire right part of that section was fenced off with very thick steel bars, set apart wide enough to let a human pass between. Three elephants were inside. A large door was open at the end of the elephant section, undoubtedly leading to an outdoor area.

Boris nodded to the elephants. ‘Do your thing, Mr. Holmes.’

Sherlock looked at the animals and frowned.

‘Sherlock, would you please explain what’s going on?’

‘Ears, John. Elephant ears are like fingerprints. Only they’d better be called earprints. I took photographs of our visitor and I looked online for nearby zoos and circuses. The elephant in question is called Beatrice, owned by this gentleman here.’

‘All right, then,’ said Boris. ‘Which one is it?’

Sherlock looked at the elephants, took out his phone and looked up the pictures. He looked at the animals again and frowned. ‘Unfortunately, I’m a lot better at identifying human fingerprints than elephant ears-’

A snorting sound interrupted them as a fourth elephant entered the stall from outside, covered in mud and sand. Another snort and a rumbling sound from among the animals.

Sherlock smiled. ‘Looks like Beatrice has taken a mud bath.’ He showed John the pictures and nodded at the elephant. The ears were identical, including a little bite mark at the tip.

Sherlock showed Boris his pictures. ‘What do you think; is this your elephant?’

Boris squinted. ‘The photo quality is very low. And it’s a small picture. Besides,’ he smiled. ‘You cannot just abduct an elephant. They only listen to their trainers. And at the time that picture was taken, I was performing for two hundred children. I was there the whole day.’

Sherlock grinned. ‘Yes, you have a sound alibi. But Beatrice doesn’t. I checked it; you weren’t performing with her, that day.’

‘Then how would she get out of her stall? I’m sure she didn’t just escape and took the lift to the second floor of that flat.’

 ‘Either you found her missing before you went to your performance or you found her missing afterwards. Either way, you didn’t raise an alarm, which would be a bit unusual in the case of a missing elephant. Therefore, either you knew who was behind it and you knew that there wouldn’t be a problem, or you were in on it. Given that you just said second floor, without any of us having told you that, I’d assume the latter, wouldn’t you agree?’

Boris sighed. ‘It was a prank, just an innocent prank. We took great care not to damage anything. Beatrice is the calmest elephant we have and, believe it or not, she has quite a sense of humour. We really didn’t mean any harm.’ He looked at Sherlock. ‘Honestly, your skills are better spent at catching criminals.’

Sherlock smiled. ‘Oh, but this is much more fun.’ He straightened. ‘Anyway, thank you so much of your time and of your honesty. I don’t think you need to be afraid of any consequences. As it turned out, your prank was highly entertaining for this small audience.’

He smiled. ‘May I ask you one last question. How old is Beatrice?’

Boris shook his head. ‘You know already, don’t you? You’re right, Beatrice is fifty-two.’

Sherlock inclined his head. ‘Thank you. Now, I think we have to make one last visit.’

They said goodbye and walked out, where the cab was already waiting for them.

 

To John’s surprise, they went back to the place where the case had started originally. However, instead of going up to the second floor to Annabel’s apartment, Sherlock knocked on Mrs. Burrows’ door.

She opened and looked surprised to see him.

‘Hello, Mrs. Burrows,’ Sherlock said with an innocent smile. ‘Or shall I say, Madame Rosetta?’

 Mrs. Burrows didn’t look guilty at all. She gave them a large grin. ‘So you worked it out, love?’

Sherlock rolled his eyes in mock despair. ‘I’ve got a reputation to uphold, madam, and I’ve recently made the acquaintance of a lovely old lady called Beatrice. Turns out she’s a bit of a burglar.’

 ‘Though a very large burglar,’ John added.

‘There are more inconspicuous kinds,’ Sherlock agreed.  They looked at Mrs. Burrows and nodded in unison.

Mrs. Burrows gestured to them to come in as she walked back into her kitchen and offered them tea. John’s eyes followed Sherlock’s, to the wall in the living room where the frames had been missing earlier. There were now three pictures with a young Mrs. Burrows and two elephants.Beatrice was recognisable from the bite mark in her ear.

‘Please sit down,’ Mrs. Burrows said with a smile as she brought the tea. ‘I think you may be interested in my story.’

John took his teacup and blew on the hot beverage. Sherlock smiled and leaned back.

‘We know you’re the previous trainer of the elephant Beatrice, we also know that she appeared and disappeared in your neighbour’s home.

And,’ he concluded, ‘we know you had some arguments with your neighbours about home security.’ He smiled at her.  ‘I dare guess that you were trying to make a point.’

‘And the point was duly made, Mr. Holmes.’

‘Sherlock.’

‘But what I don’t understand,’ she continued.  ‘How did you know I was the trainer?’

‘An eighty year old lady who is completely comfortable with an elephant? Please, that was the easiest part. ‘

She smiled. ‘Of course, I’m so used to it that I sometimes forget that it’s not so normal for other people. Did you find out how we did it? It was quite an operation, to be honest. And that for an old lady.’

‘The track marks in your garden show that heavy machinery has been there. You had your sliding doors removed; the whole frame had to come out. They probably used a crane for that. Annabel’s windows are old too. It is very easy to lift that type of framing out and then, you had removed a large part of the side of her living room. When I looked at her windowpanes, they were very shoddily put back, obviously they didn’t need to be put back properly because you would be removing Beatrice anyway.’

Mrs. Burrows nodded. ‘Annabel is replacing her windows when they’re finished doing mine.

They’re all old, you see. The builders and Beatrice’s trainer were all in on it of course.  We used a platform to lift her. She was fine with it, though she did trumpet a few times when she was in the house.’

John shook his head. ‘The trumpeting wasn’t the worst. Did she do a lot of damage?’

Mrs. Burrows smiled. ‘Luckily, you people helped by sending Annabel away, before Beatrice could become nervous and damage something, or pee on the floor. Only one pile of dung had to be removed. Well, that and the hay, and a little bit of water. But the floor didn’t suffer too much damage and the windows will be replaced anyway.’

John leaned back. ‘So Annabel didn’t suffer too much damage from this.’

Mrs. Burrows shook her head. ‘Well if she did suffer damage, I’ll pay for it, it wasn’t meant to harm anyone.’

‘But what I don’t understand: there was all this machinery and a trumpeting elephant and no one could tell Annabel or her husband what had happened? Surely some people must have heard something.’

‘You think she’s very popular? Nah, those two are so arrogant, they didn’t exactly make a lot of friends here. Used to be rich, you see, and now they think they’re better than anyone else.’

Sherlock grinned. ‘But the most important question: did she change her mind about getting a new front door?’

A sly smile played on Mrs. Burrows’ lips. ‘Yes, and rather suddenly. I don’t know how that happened.’

Sherlock finally took his cup of tea and leaned back. ‘And so it turns out. One can never be careful enough when it comes to home security.’


End file.
